Watchdog
by S. Yang Lau
Summary: Kaiba Mokuba hires a bodyguard for his brother when Kaiba Corp's CEO begins to receive mysterious threatening letters. In comes Jounouchi Katsuya, an ex-cop from Domino City's Police Department, who agrees to protect the highly reluctant and acerbic target. The two bicker and squabble, and Mokuba can only hope that Jounouchi can still save the day before it's too late. JXS AU.


**Author's Note: **This is not the prequel to the story "Of Elevators and Muses," but rather a story set into yet another parallel universe. More details regarding this change are in an explanation on my profile page.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

**Warnings:** As mentioned in the author's note, this is an **alternative universe **story. This story is rated for violence, language, and cheesy action sequences.

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**_This chapter is under severe editing. Although the content below will remain posted until the edited version replaces it, various points are liable to change. _**

* * *

"…And these are the sales figures for Kaiba Corp this quarter. Compare this to my closest competitor… " The tiny red dot of a laser pointer appeared on the presentation screen. It flicked left and right, pointing at various areas on the chart. "And it is quite obvious that there is simply no room for doubt in judging my company's… superiority."

The presenter snapped his fingers, motioning for the assistant to turn the lights in the darkened board room back on. "As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, Kaiba Corp has gained considerable ground as a contender for Japan's leading virtual technology brand in the past year." The man set down his pointer, turning around to face his audience. "I have strong reason to believe that Kaiba Corp will stay strong throughout the rest of 2009 and well into the turn of the decade." He paused, looking out at the ring of future business partners before him. "Are there any questions or comments?"

"Well, I must say that that was simply marvelous, Kaiba-boy!" a man dressed in a brilliant red suit exclaimed from his seat in the semi-circle, clapping his hands excitedly. "As expected of my new favorite young business man— Kaiba Seto, thinking far and wide indeed! I do think I know who I'm going to go to for Industrial Illusions' next big deal!"

"Much obliged, Crawford-san." Kaiba Seto shifted his attention to a stern-looking woman with graying hair near the center of the room. "Yes, Tanaka-san?"

"A question, if I may?" Tanaka's sharp eyes peered over her wire-framed glasses. "You have been leading Kaiba Corp only for the last two years, if I recall…"

"Yes. After my stepfather's death, I have been assuming full-time responsibility for the company. I've decided to bring it much further than my stepfather's limited vision of weapons technology." Seto narrowed his eyes. "Kaiba Corp will market to the common consumer's entertainment technology needs instead."

"That is quite the laudable goal." Tanaka raised a thin eyebrow. "Your relative inexperience is a bit disconcerting however, Kaiba-san," she continued, flipping through her copy of Kaiba Corp's newest project proposal. "While your work so far is certainly impressive…" Tanaka shut the booklet. "With yourself just twenty years old... I do hope you do not take offense when I say that you will need to prove yourself worthy of our time."

"No offense taken. I expect nothing less from any of my future work partners." Seto stood straight, clasping his hands behind him as his cool, cerulean eyes held her gaze in challenge. "To that, I will simply say this: I have utmost confidence in my abilities."

Shortly after the meeting, Seto briskly stacked all of his papers in an organized pile and packed them into a thin, titanium briefcase. Shrugging a long black overcoat over his immaculate, tailored suit, Seto picked up his briefcase and began his trip down the marble hallway.

The Domino Trade and Finances Center building loomed over Domino City, and it was possible to see out into the rest of the city as long as one was high enough up. After entering one of the many elevators lined against the wall and pressing the button for his floor, Seto watched the blinking, glowing lights in the night skyline from beyond the elevator's glass siding. He could see the outline of his own office building from here—the initials that made up Kaiba Corp's logo glowed faintly in the distance as he descended.

Upon reaching the third level of the indoor parking lot, Seto walked silently to a small silver sports car. His was among the flashiest automobiles in the lot, particularly distinctive with its customized hubcaps and grill badge, both of which sported the Kaiba Corp insignia: an intersected K and C.

Unlocking his car using a tiny remote he held in his hand, Seto briskly opened the car door and set his briefcase onto the passenger seat beside him. Looking behind him as he carefully pulled the vehicle out of its parking spot, Seto eased the wheel into a turn and made his way out of the parking lot and onto the lit road.

In the very same building, several floors above the retreating vehicle, a figure masked by shadows watched silently as Kaiba Seto drove away.

* * *

The silver sports car swerved a tight corner, racing past an abandoned street. The deep gouges along the door sides gleamed in a silent pattern as the vehicle passed row after row of street lights. Two cars shortly appeared from the same corner and followed in hot pursuit, tires screeching and engines roaring.

Wincing as a bullet shattered his back window, he gritted his teeth as he continued to speed down the brightly lit city streets. The glass spray showered the road with flecks of light as he made another sharp turn onto the highway in hopes of steering the chasing cars off of his course. The pursuing cars slowed momentarily at the turn, but rapidly regained speed as they ascended the lane as well and continued the chase along the straight stretch of suspended road.

The Kaiba Corp logo gleamed dully on the now dented grill; the emblem swung weakly on its side as the car swerved from side to side to avoid the persistent bullets. Another bullet narrowly missed the sunroof while a third blew off one of the rearview mirrors, splintering the glass and causing fragments to cascade onto the heated asphalt.

When all three cars entered a brightly lit tunnel, peripheral vision revealed that one of the vehicles to the left was quickly gaining distance. The line of lights suspended along the tunnel ceiling bounced repeatedly over the cars in a distracting array as the pursuit reached dire levels—

He cursed when only a car length remained between his car and one of the advancing vehicles on his left. He slammed onto the accelerator, and the car sped up again as soon as it left the tunnel behind and the cool night air hit the car hood once more. As an exit on the side appeared, the silver sports car's tires seared roughly across the asphalt in an attempt to make a quick right.

He took a sharp breath and swore. There wasn't enough time to turn—

The tires skidded in protest at the sudden movement, throwing the sports car into a dizzying spin before forcing it to careen against a metal railing. The car broke clean through the barrier with a sharp, metallic crunching sound.

The vehicle flipped silently twice in the air as it sailed over the cliff before meeting its unseemly and fiery death, crashing into the blacktop tens of meters below. It exploded with a deafening boom, and subsequent thick black clouds of smoke billowed high into the air, giving no hint of how the driver fared…

A young man with long, messy black hair groaned as the television screen began flashing the words 'game over' in bright, obnoxious letters. "Damn it!" he swore, tossing his controller to the side. "I was so close to beating my high score, too!"

The sound of a door opening and the butler's quiet murmuring from the foyer distracted him. "Nii-sama's home!" Scrambling to his feet, the teenage boy left the ruined, pixelated car in all of its blazing, charred glory as he rushed out of the room and down the hall. "Nii-sama, you're back!"

"Yes, Mokuba, I'm home." Seto handed the butler his coat as he smiled thinly at his younger brother. "What have you been up to today?"

"Oh, I was just playing some videogames. I finally managed to hack into the playable car designs in Car Speeder 2000x Part III, so I reprogrammed your car into it—you know, the one we picked out for you last month— and played with that for a little while, until I crashed it by mistake," Mokuba explained all in one breath while simultaneously walking alongside his brother. "Think we can play together later?"

Seto hummed distractedly in reply, scratching Mokuba's head roughly as they walked. "Probably not. I have a lot of work I have to finish tonight."

"What?" Mokuba whined, rather childish behavior for a fourteen year old.

Promising to catch up with his brother as soon as he was done with work, Seto left Mokuba in the entertainment room again and entered his office. After hanging his suit jacket on the rack nearby, Seto set down his briefcase again. Sighing as he sat down behind his large mahogany work desk, Seto settled into his seat and began to sort through the day's mail that he had requested for the butler to leave daily on his desk.

He quickly glanced through the large stack, sorting unimportant postage and mail for Mokuba in two separate piles. Nothing of interest, it seemed…

Seto's hands stilled when he reached the last letter in his hands, and he frowned. There was no return address, just the words '_To Kaiba Seto_' and Kaiba Mansion's address in simple, typed print.

Using his letter opener, Seto carefully sheared the envelope open and pulled out the single sheet of paper inside. There was only one line of computer printed text:

_Step down as Kaiba Corp's CEO, Kaiba Seto, or you will regret it._

Seto's eyebrows furrowed, his mouth pursing into a hard line.

After reaching over to his desk phone and dialing for the butler moments later, Seto was reassured that all of the postage had arrived the same way that it always had: directly from a secure mailbox delivered from Domino City's Post Office Headquarters. He didn't show the aging man the letter, and kept the piece of paper and the envelope that it came in face-down on his desk. Shortly afterwards, Seto dismissed the rather confused butler, and sat back in his chair, thinking.

He picked up the letter again, examining it. "An empty threat," he finally decided out loud. He scoffed, and pitched the sheet back on his desk with a quick turn of his wrist. It was just a sick little joke that had nothing to back up its intimidation factor. Perhaps from a disgruntled rival company, perhaps not. Either way, it was not worth the amount of time he had already spent examining it.

There was no point in telling Mokuba about this. His little brother would just needlessly worry. Gathering the letter and sliding it back into its envelope, Seto tossed the entire thing into the tiny wire wastebasket he kept at the side of his desk. Then he opened his desktop computer and went to work.

Seto's eyes glanced over at the clock application on his computer's screen as he finished saving and backing up the last of his work for the night. Three hours had already passed. He let out a silent exhale and shut down the machine. Seto pushed his seat back and stood up. A couple of pops in his joints as he stretched his legs resounded loudly in the otherwise silent room. Closing the light as he exited his office, Seto wondered whether his younger brother was still awake.

When he arrived at the entertainment room, Mokuba was splayed out and snoring face-first on the carpeted floor, hands still clutching the game controller. Seto snorted silently and turned off the blaring television screen before kneeling down and nudging one of Mokuba's shoulders with a gentle hand.

"Mokuba, get up. You can't sleep here."

Mokuba groaned, and shouldered his brother's hand away before rolling over and returning to his sleep on his side, mumbling something intelligible all the while. Seto sighed, and pried the controller out of his brother's hands. He then heaved the teenager onto his back.

"Damn, you're getting awfully heavy," Seto muttered. A couple of more threatening pops in his knees and spine later, Seto finally managed to steady the weight on his back by draping Mokuba's limp arms over his shoulders and hooking his own arms under the boy's knees.

Straightening up again, and careful not to jostle the boy and accidentally wake him up, Seto's feet padded silently down the hall as the young man carried his brother back into the latter's bedroom.

* * *

The next few weeks at Kaiba Corp were hectic. The company was in the initial stage of developing a new software system, a process that was both strenuous and time-consuming. In that time, the mysterious, threatening letter quickly dissipated from Seto's mind.

It appeared that Seto's declaration was true, that it was simply a little scare tactic with no bite in it. That would have made a plausible argument, except then the next letter appeared:

"This is utterly unacceptable!" Seto snapped, eyes furious as he glared at his downcast employees sitting morosely before him. He tapped loudly at the small stack of papers on the table directly in front of him. "I will not stand for this kind of shoddy, half-assed work!" With a sharp flick of his wrist, he scattered the papers all over the meeting table. A balding, sweating man sitting nearby flinched as one of the sheets hit his face. "Do any of you think we can actually keep Kaiba Corp at the top with this shitty proposal that you're handing me? Von Schroeder will laugh his ass off if we market this—"

A faint knock on the door interrupted him. "President—" A man whispered as he slowly opened the large, wooden door.

"What is it?!" Seto snarled as he whirled around to face him. The man visibly cowered, but persisted.

"V-Vice-President is in your office."

Seto glanced at the silver watchband on his wrist, and then stood up from his seat at the head of the table, the wheels of his chair clattering loudly as he moved. "I have other business to deal with right now. I had better see a perfect proposal by noon tomorrow. You are all dismissed."

He turned with a flourish, storming out of the board room as the group of department heads bowed quickly at his departure. The poor messenger likewise bowed, repeatedly, as he held the door open for Seto, sweating profusely for all the three seconds he had spoken to his boss.

It was only when Seto entered his office and left his employees on the other side of the frosted door that read 'Kaiba Seto, CEO' that he allowed himself to attempt to dissolve his stony expression. Mounted tension unfurled its fist as he exhaled silently. Yet the door still closed behind him just a little too loudly.

At the sound, Mokuba grunted and woke up with a start from his apparent napping place on the nearby sofa. His eyes refocused, and he grinned as he hopped off the leather couch. "You ready for lunch? I'm starving! Thought I was gonna go into a coma while I was waiting."

"It hasn't been that long," Seto replied calmly. He walked over to his desk and sat down, turning on his work computer. "Just let me check my email before I go."

"What? Oh, come on!" Mokuba pleaded. He began to pace up and down Seto's work office in anxiety. The navy- blue carpeted floor underneath his footsteps seemed awfully close to wearing down into two ragged, gaping lines. "The line's gonna get so long, and you know how packed that restaurant gets during lunchtime—"

"I made reservations for twelve thirty, Mokuba," Seto replied calmly, not looking up from his computer. "We're in no rush."

"You did?" Mokuba sounded surprised, and stopped mid-step. "Oh, well, then, either way! Come on, I don't want them to give up our seats either—" He looked up at the clock hanging on the wall and waved an arm at it. "See, it's already twelve ten!"

Seto sighed just as two faint knocks resonated on the door. "Come in."

The secretary bowed as she entered, and greeted both Kaiba brothers. In her arms was a pile of document folders and other assorted papers, and she looked quite frazzled. "I've picked up your mail for today, President. There are also some documents that General Manager Otaki from Finances would like your approval on and sign." She shifted her arms a bit, dropping a handful of the papers over her dull pumps. "Oh, I apologize—"

"Leave them there! I'll just help you look through them right now, nii-sama!" Mokuba said brightly, jumping to the ground to snatch up the papers. "Many hands make light work and all of that, right?"

The secretary then set down the load on the side of Seto's desk and bowed again before leaving. Mokuba plopped down in one of the guest chairs in front of Seto's desk, and began to sift through the letters in his hands, tearing them open one by one. "Let's see… This can wait until after lunch, this can wait… We can throw this one out…And this one…" Mokuba's voice trailed off. "Big brother, what's this?"

Seto looked up from the document folder in front of him, pen frozen in his hand.

In Mokuba's raised hand was a single white piece of paper, blank if not for a single line of typed text. In his other clenched hand was a plain white envelope addressed to Seto at the Kaiba Corp address. Like last time, there was no return address.

_This is your second warning: Step down as Kaiba Corp's CEO, Kaiba Seto, or you will regret it._

"What is this?" Mokuba repeated, his voice starting to become shrill. "Who sent this? And what does it mean, that this is the second warning? You got a letter like this before?"

Seto closed his eyes and set down his pen. "Mokuba, it's nothing to worry about."

"What do you mean?" Mokuba sounded genuinely shocked, gray eyes turning wide. "What are you saying, that 'it's nothing to worry about'? When did you get the first letter? How come you didn't tell me?"

Seto pursed his lips at Mokuba's relentless fire of questions. "I mean that these are just empty threats. The first one came a few weeks ago—at home. I already threw it out." Seto ignored Mokuba's squawk of shock and reached over the table to pull the letter and envelope out of the other's grasp. "I didn't tell you because it wasn't important."

"And you have no idea who sent them?" Mokuba clambered out of his seat. "This isn't a joke! Someone could really be after you. We have to do something—Like call the police—" Mokuba jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone.

Seto scowled. "No, Mokuba. Please don't blow this out of proportion." He folded the letter along its creases and slid it back into the envelope. "Just forget about it. It's probably some drunkard business rival playing tricks."

"'Out of proportion'?" Mokuba exclaimed in disbelief. "How can you even say that?"

"Mokuba." Seto's teeth grit, his voice beginning to show strains of irritation. "I can handle it."

"And how do you know you can handle it when you're not even sure what it is?" Mokuba sounded hysterical. "You can't always watch out for everything just by relying on yourself, big brother!"

"I take care of you, don't I?" The words were sharp.

Mokuba faltered a bit, his eyes downcast in slight shame. "I know that…I know that you take care of me—" But then he regained eye contact, chin defiant. "But who's gonna take care of you?" Mokuba's lips thinned into a stiff line, an identical imitation of his older brother's own iconic displeased expression. He slammed his fists onto the desk, eyes boring into Seto's. "You have to call the police—"

Seto sighed again. "That's completely unnecessary, Mokuba—"

"No, nii-sama—Listen to me. This is serious. I—I won't…Just please don't argue with me." His tone suggested that there would be no compromise. "Please. Just let me do this for you, okay?" Mokuba's eyes were pleading. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Seto exhaled slowly, leaning back into his chair in defeat. He nodded.

* * *

When Mokuba scheduled a private conference with the head of Domino City Police Department's Criminal Investigation Bureau later that afternoon, he was granted a strict thirty minute time block. If he had been anyone else, he would have just been directed to a regular officer to open a case file and it would have been left at that. However, Mokuba was a Kaiba, and the Kaiba family happened to be one of the most prominent lines in the city. Although generally hesitant to throw the name around for special privileges, Mokuba decided that this particular case necessitated the use of declaring his surname (which he do so loudly when he made the call to a young rookie officer manning one of the desk phones).

As it turned out, the head of the Criminal Investigation Bureau was not particularly influenced by big names, and frowned upon such abuses of power. However, the man did have exactly half an hour of free time between various meetings at headquarters and filing necessary paperwork, and as a kind man, he decided to grant Kaiba Mokuba those thirty minutes when he heard that it was a fourteen year old boy in hysterics who had urgently requested his counsel.

Due to that time limit, Mokuba made sure to open his mouth and begin pouring out the story as soon as introductions were made and he sat down in the seat provided for him in the small office.

Although it was introduced in rather astonishing baritone and engraved on both the office's door and the plaque in front of the man's folded hands, Mokuba could not recall the man's name. He did not particularly wish to ask for it again (because of the aforementioned time constraint), and simply continued talking at the man until he was finished.

For that same reason, he could not recall the man's appearance that well either, though in afterthought, he supposed that he could recall one distinctive feature… Because Mokuba tried his damnedest to keep earnest eye contact, he did remember the man's eyes. They were naturally yet childishly large, and they remained attentive and unblinking throughout Mokuba's entire spiel on how his older brother was being pursued by some unknown party, and how justice must be served as quickly and efficiently as possible.

The man listened carefully to Mokuba, not even once interrupting the teenager. And when his young guest was done, he stared at the boy for a little longer still until he blinked, nodded once, and exhaled.

He had to admit, he was swayed. The man was well-known in the precinct for being able to pick out a liar, and this black-haired boy with the rings under his eyes and pleading, wavering voice was as earnest as they come.

"May I see the letter that you have?" he finally asked.

Mokuba automatically pulled out a plastic baggy with the letter and envelope enclosed and handed it to him.

The man made a thoughtful sound as he examined the piece of evidence before him. After a moment, he set it down on his desk and looked up again. "I'm afraid that we cannot do that much for you as of the moment, Mokuba-kun." He continued to speak despite the look of dejection on the boy's face. "I will keep this here," he said, motioning to the bag, "and I will have my officers run some tests on it. We'll see what we can do. But the police really cannot help you further with this little information to go on.

"But I do have some advice to impart; I'll advise that your brother hire some protection for himself."

"Protection? Like a bodyguard?"

"That's right. Just as a precaution."

"That's a good idea—" Mokuba's eyes lit up, but the illumination disappeared just as quickly from the gray eyes. "But, I don't know who I should ask—Who could I trust?" His voice broke. "He's my only family member. I don't want anything to ever happen to him—" Mokuba whispered, shaking hands curling against his sides. "I have to be sure he's safe."

And he looked so pitiful and small in his seat, and the man sighed and closed his eyes. He thought for a moment. Perhaps... "I can direct you to a man I knew since the Academy." He motioned to the various framed photographs on the wall beside him. Mokuba blinked runny eyes at them, but they were still too blurry to focus on the tiny faces. "He's a former badge himself, and he's one of the most loyal and protective friends I have."

Mokuba wiped a forming tear away with a sleeve. "Really? A-and you think that he'll agree to protect nii-sama until we catch the person who's doing this?" he asked with a hiccup.

"Now, that would be up to him to decide whether he wants to agree or not. He does have his own life to lead… But I have utmost confidence in his abilities."

"That's great!" Mokuba smiled for the first time all morning, a wide and bright grin that made the man subconsciously mirror the expression on his own face. "How should I contact him?"

"I can try to ring him up now, if you'd like."

"Sure—" Mokuba scrambled out of his seat. "Take as long as you need. I'll wait outside until you're done." Mokuba then turned and left the room quickly, closing the door loudly behind him in his haste.

The man picked up his desk phone and pressed the code to direct his calls out of the precinct. 'You're the man of the hour right now, Jounouchi Katsuya-kun…' he thought to himself as he punched in the cell phone number. He just hoped that the man would pick up.

* * *

An auto body shop was a noisy place, and Ishida's Car and Truck Repairs was no exception. Tucked away in one of the dingier districts of Domino City, a mechanical cacophony of drills, beeps, clangs, and roars often coupled with human grunts and yells day in and day out of the tiny but well-frequented establishment.

It was late in the afternoon, and the cool autumn wind blew a few dead leaves into the open garage. A heavy work boot crunched on a particularly brittle leaf as the man wearing it shifted his stance and bent over the open hood of a 1997 Toyota pick-up that had definitely been through the mill a couple of times.

He was a heavily muscled man, dressed in a dirty white undershirt and oil-splattered denim overalls. Tattoos covered nearly every square inch of his thick, bulging arms— images of crashing, foaming waves and mythical beasts that had jaws crowded with rows of sharp teeth. Veins rippled as he worked the heavy-duty drill in his gloved hands. The contraption whirred away loudly, piercing the garage with a high-pitched whine.

Nearly covered by an assortment of tools on a work bench nearby, a cell phone's screen began flashing as the tiny device rang.

"Huh?" The man turned off the drill, and swore loudly when the crown of his head hit the car hood with a particularly echoing clank. He continued to curse up a storm when he retracted his head, clapping his gloved hand over the forming bruise and mussing up already dirty, graying locks. The man took a glance onto the work bench, and then turned his head to yell deeper into the garage: "Jounouchi! Your goddamn phone!"

"What?" A wiry young man pulled himself out from the underbelly of a nearby car, wrench in one hand. "My phone?" The man sat up on the wheeled board, tossing the tool onto the ground. Peeling off his gloves, the gangly shook untidy long blond hair out of his eyes to look at the disgruntled, bearded man in front of him. The other man was clutching at the top of his head, oddly enough.

"Yes, your fucking phone—Hurry up about it!" The man pointed to the work bench.

"You got it, boss—" The young man stood up, dusting away at his own dirty, faded t-shirt and torn jeans as he walked over to the bench. Glancing at caller identification as he picked up his phone, he grinned widely at the name running across his screen. "Boss, I'm gonna have to take this one outside," he called out.

"Yeah, whatever! Just do what shit you gotta do and come back," the owner—the one and only Ishida Shoutaro of Ishida's Car and Truck Repairs—bellowed back before starting up the drill again.

"Can do." The wiry man slipped out of the building and into the deserted alleyway out back. Standing beside some empty crates and broken glass bottles, he quickly glanced around at his surroundings before flipping it open. "Yeah. Talk to me, buddy."

"_Jounouchi-kun, I hope I didn't interrupt you from doing anything… How have you been doing?"_

Katsuya's grin became wider. "You know Ishida can't live without his best mechanic. He's going outta town next week for a few months to visit his old lady, though, so I'll get a breather soon enough…" He leaned against the dirty brick wall behind him. "And, yeah, I've been doing pretty good, man. Could ask the same back at you, head honcho."

His long-time friend laughed boisterously, the sounds cracking a bit at the end due to the reception. _"I've been fine."_ Then the voice lowered, and Katsuya knew he was about to talk serious business. _"Look, Jounouchi-kun. I called because… well… A boy came in earlier about a couple of letter threats that his older brother's been receiving. And I told him that it would be best if they hired a bodyguard." _There was a moment's pause. _"I recommended you."_

"Oh, yeah?"

"_Yes… and well, I know you don't want to go back to the force anymore, but… I believe that this boy really cares a lot about his older brother, and he appeared so desperate, so I agreed that I'll ask you about it."_

Katsuya stared at the cement ground in front of him, nudging at a broken glass bottle neck with his toe. "Huh," he uttered.

"_...There are a lot of unknown factors in this case, Jounouchi-kun. And I have to admit that this is somewhat high-profile."_

"You know that kind of shit doesn't bother me."

Katsuya could almost see his friend smile through the receiver. _"I know, Jounouchi-kun. Those kinds of stakes have never stopped you before." _There was another pause._ "It's just that, I guess I was mostly convinced because this kid reminds me a lot of her…"_ the other man said faintly.

Katsuya's grin faded away. "Yeah?"

"_Oh! I'm sorry, Jounouchi-kun—I didn't know I said that last part out loud… I didn't mean to upset you."_

"…Nah, man. Forget it." Katsuya kicked the bottle neck with a well-placed strike, and watched absentmindedly as it spun a few times and hit a rotting plastic crate some two meters away. "Where's the kid now?" he asked finally.

"_He's outside my office door, waiting to hear back from me."_

Jounouchi paused, glancing up at the white, bleak sky and exhaled a puff of visible warmth into the cool air. After a long moment of quiet thinking, he straightened and adjusted the phone in his hands. "All right, I've got an answer for you."

The head of the Criminal Investigation Bureau opened the door to his office, and motioned for Mokuba to come in. The boy had been pacing right outside the door with eyes on the tiled floor, and followed the man back into the room in a rush possible only of children. The man looked directly into the boy's anxious face and said with a tiny smile, "He will meet you at your home at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow morning."

Mokuba brightened immediately, and looked closed to jumping for uncontrollable joy. "Thank you so much! Thank you, thank you, _thank you_!"

"I will keep you posted on this end, Mokuba-kun. I hope that all goes well." The man walked around his desk and picked up his coat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have other matters of business to attend to. I'm afraid our thirty minutes are up." He slipped the coat over his small frame.

"Of course—Oh, hold on, aren't you going to take your hat?" Mokuba pointed to the peaked, decorated cap on the coat rack that the man had just removed his coat from.

The man simply shook his head and smiled. "I never wear that thing." He winked, pointing at his gelled locks. "Messes with my hair."

* * *

As his motorbike sped down the busy streets of Domino City early next morning, Katsuya wondered when was the last time he had needed to use his gun. He didn't have the light silver pistol with him now—it remained in a locked fire-proof storage box back at his apartment, hidden away in a closet and covered with worn clothes—but he had taken it out last night to look at for the first time in nearly four years.

When he picked it up, it had felt natural in his hand, as if he had never parted ways with it in the first place.

'Four years. It's been about that long since I've used it, too,' he thought to himself in realization. 'It's really been a while.' The wind was getting kind of strong these days, and Katsuya absentmindedly wished that he had worn something a bit heavier than the thin denim jacket flapping vigorously against his sides now.

The boy's name, upon further prompting later in his phone call yesterday, was Kaiba Mokuba. Katsuya recognized that surname. Kaiba Corp had been a big name in weapons development in the past three decades. Their weapons were among the best in the arms business, if not the top name in the trade.

From what he could recall, Kaiba Corp had switched over to entertainment a couple of years back; he saw the brand on a couple of the newer game machines in the arcades he sometimes frequented.

Although he had been provided with a route, the address to Kaiba Mansion was unnecessary. Nearly everyone in Domino City knew where the gigantic, Western-style edifice was. Katsuya had never actually traveled there, however, and so he spared a glance at the perfectly trimmed shrubs and pristine shape of the nearby infrastructure as he rode past them.

Finally, the entirety of Kaiba Mansion loomed into view, framed by the gigantic trees surrounding the property. Katsuya slowed down and parked his motorcycle—a red and black bike that he had bought second hand and fixed up at Ishida's in his spare time some five years ago—in front of the cobble work right before the iron gates.

Leaning over to the intercom attached to the left side of the brick wall, he flipped up the visor of his helmet and pressed the call button.

* * *

"You've found someone already?" Seto asked. Surprise was evident in his tone. It had been less than twenty-four hours since Mokuba had caught wind of the second letter, which he had since given to the police station sometime yesterday.

Mokuba drew his head back from his place at the window and gave him a petulant, the dark bags under his eyes puffy. Seto doubted that his little brother had so much closed his eyes for longer than a blink for the past day. Mokuba had glanced anxiously out the car window the entire ride back to Kaiba Manor, and had then ordered the servants to close all of the blinds and draw all of the curtains (all five floors and forty-six rooms' worth), before asking Isono to give him a ride to the police station in one of their more non-descript vehicles.

The two of them were in their living room now, the ceiling lights providing them their only source of illumination at nearly nine o'clock on an early-November morning.

Perhaps the bodyguard was necessary… but for Mokuba's sake and not Seto's own well-being, or so Seto thought.

"He'll be here at nine o' clock," Mokuba replied stubbornly.

Seto suppressed a retort, and released it as a drawn-out exhale instead. He crossed his arms and said nothing, choosing to stare straight ahead silently.

"Do you want to see his background information?" Mokuba released one side of the heavy curtains clasped in his hands and pointed at a slim folder on the glass coffee table before Seto's crossed legs. "They compiled some papers for me at the precinct."

Seto shook his head. "This is entirely up to you, Mokuba." He will take no responsibility in this.

The buzz of the intercom sounded, and the butler appeared at the answering machine beside the front door to answer it. The butler then turned after a moment. "Sirs, there is a Jounouchi Katsuya at the door."

Mokuba immediately straightened. "That's the guy! And right on time. Let him in—No, tell him to wait there. I wanna go out and meet him." He waved at the young man with an impatient hand. "Let's go see him, nii-sama!"

Seto silently got to his feet as well and followed behind Mokuba's hurried footsteps.

When the gates swung open, Seto watched, with his arms still folded firmly across his chest, as a man wearing a scuffed motorcycle helmet swung his leg off of a motorbike. Seto nearly cocked an eyebrow at the state of the vehicle—although it appeared to be in working condition, the thing was that it had definitely seen better days.

The same went for the man who rode it. Complete with the helmet, the outfit of a beat-up denim jacket over a torn shirt, khakis, and old sneakers seemed more reminiscent of street punk than professional bodyguard material.

It was the way the advancing man held himself that made Seto blink. There was something about the man's posture that seemed to suggest that this man had received some kind of intense physical training. He walked briskly, with broad shoulders back and spine steely straight.

He finally reached the two brothers. The man was tall, but not quite as tall as Seto, and stood a handful of centimeters shorter than the twenty year old. However, he still towered over an awestruck Mokuba, whose jaw has slackened to the point that Seto had the urge to reach over and snap his gaping mouth shut.

What the hell was so damn impressive about him? He was just another man. He hadn't even revealed his face yet.

The man took off his helmet when he was about five paces from where Seto and Mokuba stood. A calloused hand raked a shock of shaggy, dirty-blond bangs over the forehead to reveal a young man's face with warm brown eyes. "Are you the guys who called for me?" His voice was relaxed, but there was a slight hint of suppressed emotion in it, like the man had seen his fair share of the world despite his age, and was now battle-weary.

Seto blinked while Mokuba nodded once silently, still mesmerized.

The man nodded in reply, resting the helmet in the crook of his arm. "I'm Jounouchi Katsuya. I'm your new bodyguard."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

It's been a long time since I wrote anything Jounouchi/Seto related. A long time, indeedie. Action seems to be a genre that doesn't get a lot of light in this fandom, and I hope that I'll do it some justice.

This was previously titled "The Contract" in draft version. I have since renamed it to "Watchdog", which came to me last night as I was brushing my teeth. I think the new one fits better.

I've waived Japan's strict gun laws for the sake of the story. Ohoho.

If you'd like, toss a few words of advice in the well! I'll appreciate and internalize them.


End file.
